Looking Backwards
by veiledndarkness
Summary: Maybe someday he'll go back, go back and explain. Warning: Slash


Title: Looking Backwards

Author: veiledndarkness

Pairing: Bobby/Jack

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Maybe someday he'll go back, go back and explain.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, and no harm intended.

X

I haven't been home in more than two years.

And God, do I miss it. It's funny, cause I spent years leaving home an' coming back all the time, but I never wanted to stay. I got this itch, this thing...a need to keep moving. Force of habit I guess you could call it.

I thought she would understand, that she would get why I needed him.

And maybe she does, maybe after the inital shock wore off, she did get it. Not that I stuck around to find out. I left. I had to this time. I didn't want to, but the look in her eyes, that scared me. I ran.

x

I kept tabs on them, I always have and I know Jerry's setting up his company. I know Angel's back in with his unit. I know that Ma keeps busy with the hospital and the shelters. And Jack...I know he's gone too. He left after me, a month or so after. He's making his way East.

He stayed the longest out of all of us. He left because of me. Maybe that's why I haven't called her. Guilt's too fucking powerful it seems. I don't wanna hear the unasked questions in her voice, don't wanna face what she's dying to ask.

I fucked up for the last time.

x

I spent years not giving in. I resisted and forced myself not to touch him the way I was desperate to.

Brotherly hugs and chaste kisses, that's nothing but a goddamned tease. He's a fucking tease.

Resisting him was harder than giving up drugs, harder than never tasting another drop of booze, but I would have given it all up if it meant having him.

And the one time I gave in, the first and only time I ever let myself go, she found us. That choked gasp, her eyes wide, one delicate hand pressed to her mouth, and God, the look on her face, like she couldn't believe it, couldn't look away and I've never felt such shame as I did right then, buried deep inside him on his bed.

x

Maybe someday I'll go back. Face her and explain and plead with her to understand.

No one ever got me like he did. No one made me burn inside like he did.

And maybe she'll be ok with it. Maybe she'll love me enough to forgive me for needing him like that.

Maybe she'll hug me, and tell me she still loves me.

Please...

x

I found him the other day. I saw him come out of the bus terminal, his bag slung over one shoulder, hair as messy as ever. He paused by the fence partition and dug a cigarette out of a pack from his jacket, lit it and inhaled, a stream of smoke trailing behind him as he walked.

Two years and the sight of him still makes my knees weak.

I followed him. Yeah, I did. I needed to know where he was going, if he was meeting someone. And nothing fuels me more than a jealous rage. He's mine, he always was mine, even if I only ever had him that once.

If he noticed me tailing him, he didn't act like it. He strolled the streets, taking in the blur of people around him, absorbing everything about this city. I wanted him, I needed him to look back and fucking aknowledge me, anything but this casual hike downtown.

He knows. I know he does. He always knew when I was watching him.

x

I caught him when he slowed down, feigning interest in the window display before him. He only tensed for a moment, a fraction of a second before he dipped his head to the side and sighed, my name a breathy whisper.

And here, in a city where we were both strangers, I could reach up, push my fingers into his hair and tug him down, kissing him hard like I crave to do.

Heaven, pure fucking heaven. Kissing him never felt better.

x

He followed me back to my crappy apartment, his eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped. There wasn't any need for words, not with two years of absence between us. He sat on my bed, letting me touch him, letting me move my rough hands over his hair, down his sides, allowing each desperate touch.

I need him, he's a fucking drug, he's my goddamn high.

It was a blur of clothes and hands and his long legs wrapped around me, his skin flushed with shame and desire. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him and maybe he always has too.

Over too soon, sparks of pure pleasure shooting down my spine and he was there, mumbling my name, his body shuddering under mine, his fingers digging into my shoulders, leaving red marks that stung perfectly.

x

He tucked his head against my chest, his fingers tracing my rosary tattoo, his favorite by far, his lips moving in silent prayer. He looked up at me, blue eyes dimmed with the smallest tinge of fear to them.

Yeah...yeah I knew that look. He was scared. Scared of this...

I'm keeping him with me, keeping him in my arms, my Jack, my perfect fucking high, my deepest need and strongest desire. I need him, and he tells me, haltingly, that he needs me as well.

Someday, we'll go back home. See her again and ask her to understand. He says she will.

Sometimes I'm not so sure.

X


End file.
